


A Consort's Place

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: SPN Masquerade Fills [15]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Bottom Jared, Claiming, Don't copy to another site, M/M, SPN Masquerade Kink Meme, Top Jensen, consort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: Jared is the King, Jensen is his Consort. After a confrontation in the council chambers, Jensen decides to stake his claim.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: SPN Masquerade Fills [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/329416
Comments: 11
Kudos: 232





	A Consort's Place

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spring 2020 SPN Masquerade for the prompt _Jared is the king, Jensen is the consort. No one but them knows it’s Jared on all 4s getting fucked, instead of the other way around._ Link to the original fill [here](https://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/10986.html?thread=4180458#t4180458).

“We need to reinforce our strongholds along the southern border.”

The scoff that follows Jensen’s pronouncement is loud enough to be heard throughout the council chamber. Jared, fully aware from whose lips the derisive sound originated, rolls his eyes. He may be the king, but in this room he hears all points of view. His ministers would do well to remember that.

“Something to add, Weatherly?” Jared levels the question at his longest serving minister, a snake of a man who tends to put his own interests above those of the kingdom. “Troop deployments are not usually your area of expertise.”

Michael Weatherly’s expression sours. His eyes shift between the king and the handsome man seated beside him, unable to mask the disdain he feels when he looks at the royal consort. Jared fights his own smile at what has become Weatherly’s predictable behavior.

“I just don’t think you should rush to commit more men to the south when the ports—”

“Our soldiers shouldn’t be guarding your ships, Weatherly,” Jensen cuts in before the minister can finish. “You have plenty of men for that.” He turns in his seat to fix Jared with that intense, green stare he’s adored for so long. “Based on the reports I’m receiving, the threat to our southern border is very real, Your Majesty, and should be taken seriously.”

_Your Majesty._ Jared hears that title a hundred times a day. By all rights, he ought to be sick of it. Yet hearing it from Jensen’s lips sends a shiver down his spine. No one else can deliver the honorific with such a precise mix of deference (enough to show that he respects the king) and defiance (to remind Jared that he doesn’t control everything).

“I’ve seen the reports and I have to agree,” Jared tells his assembled ministers. To Weatherly, he points out, “We cannot commit soldiers to protecting your personal enterprises. You can afford to hire more guards if you need them. Think what you’d be doing for the economy,” he finishes with a smirk.

With a wave of his hand, Jared draws the session to a close. Fortunately, most of his ministers nod politely and shuffle out of the room now that council business has concluded. To his dismay, Weatherly hangs back, eyeing Jensen with contempt. His consort is on his feet, waiting for Jared to finish.

“If I might have a moment, Your Majesty,” he says, “there are certain _issues_ that remain unresolved.”

Jared sighs. There are so many places he’d rather be. “Make it quick, Weatherly.”

“It’s a private matter.”

Behind Jared, Jensen steps forward as if to argue the point. While there are no secrets between the king and his consort, he realizes begrudgingly that Weatherly’s got a bone to pick and isn’t likely to let the subject drop.

“It’s fine, Jensen. I’ll meet you in our rooms shortly.” Jared stresses the last part to remind Weatherly that there is no one in the kingdom closer to him than Jensen Ackles. He watches Jensen step out of the room, admiring the fit of his navy blue coat, before turning back to Weatherly. “Now, what business of yours couldn’t wait?”

“It’s not just my business, Your Majesty, rather the kingdom’s business. This council was created generations ago to ensure the best leadership, and yet, since your father’s passing, you insist on making a mockery of it.”

Jared squares his shoulders. “Careful, Weatherly,” he warns. “Whatever you’re trying to say, get to the point.”

“My point,” he hisses, “is that you insult the council by insisting that your lover hold a high-ranking seat! It’s bad enough that you won’t marry, but to parade your consort around as if he’s our equal…”

Jared stops listening. If he had his sword, it would be at Weatherly’s throat. He knew the man—a member of his father’s council before he passed—held some distaste for Jared’s relationship with Jensen. He never imagined it ran so deep.

He cuts into Weatherly’s rant with a snarl. “You’re right about one thing. Jensen is _not_ your equal. In deed and in stature, he rises so far above you.”

“He’s a soldier,” Weatherly counters, already flustered.

“I was a soldier, too. Need I remind you what we’re capable of? My father made service a requirement of my succession, and Jensen was my commanding officer. I am the king I am today because of his leadership, and I know there’s no one in the entire kingdom who cares more about its well being. We are lucky that he’s willing to serve on the council when he could be out there, leading our armies.”

“Your Majesty, please.” Weatherly finally seems to grasp that he’s made a grave mistake. Jared has heard enough.

“Council matters will no longer be your problem if you ever question Jensen’s place again.” His threat is stern and final. “Have I made myself clear, Weatherly?”

The chastised minister averts his gaze and bows. “Crystal clear, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Now, I am needed elsewhere.”

Jared wastes no time exiting the room, leaving the stunned man behind. He half-expected Jensen to be waiting for him outside the chamber doors, yet the hall is empty.

As he makes his way through the castle and back towards his rooms, Jared allows the rage to seep away. Weatherly isn’t the first to object to Jensen’s involvement in state matters, though most of his detractors were silenced years ago. (The man was a war hero, after all.) Jared doubts he’ll be the last, either. His faith in Jensen is absolute; their bond was forged in training and on the battlefield. Their courtship came later, once Jared was recalled to his father’s side, but Jensen is as fierce now as he was when he was in command.

By the time Jared reaches his personal rooms, he feels more balanced, eager to spend the rest of the night relaxing completely.

His consort, apparently, has a plan of his own.

As soon as Jared crosses the threshold, Jensen lunges at him. The door slams as Jared is grabbed by the shoulders and spun against the wall. It’s a well-planned, whirlwind attack for which Jared would commend him if Jensen’s tongue wasn’t prying apart the seam of his lips and pushing inside. His breath is stolen away as Jensen deepens the kiss, pressing the length of his body against Jared’s and grinding.

“Fuck,” Jared curses when Jensen moves to bite at the curve of his jaw. “You heard what Weatherly said about you.”

Jensen’s response is a feral growl that pushes Jared further towards the peak of arousal. They’ve made love a thousand times, and Jared has tasted every flavor of his consort’s passion, yet this may be his favorite: when the lust overtakes Jensen and sets him ablaze with the need to claim what’s his.

Here, now, Jensen is in control. Everywhere else, Jared is the king, second to no one, and Jensen understands the order of things and the necessity of appearances. But in these rooms, the mantles drop and they can both be themselves.

Jensen’s fingers work furiously on the various clasps and buttons of Jared’s fine coat, delving inside and cursing when he finds another layer instead of bare skin. He yanks the coat off and lets it hit the floor before grabbing Jared and pushing him towards their bedroom. Sensing how this is likely to play out, Jared goes willingly, heat climbing up into his chest.

“Get undressed,” Jensen orders, “unless you want me to tear the rest of your clothes off.”

Jared considers that for a moment, watching Jensen’s eyes darken, before deciding not to risk his tailor’s wrath. He strips efficiently, panting hard and enjoying the weight of Jensen’s stare on his body, while noting that his lover makes no move to undress further beyond unlacing his shirt.

“What about you?”

“On the bed,” Jensen says in lieu of an answer. “No, Jared, on your knees,” he corrects when Jared moves to lie on his back in the middle of the massive bed.

Lust flaring, Jared can’t help but tease. “Is this better?” he asks, presenting himself on his knees and elbows, moving languorously atop the wine-colored silks.

“If only the council could see you now.” Jensen’s voice is a warm flame licking his skin. “Your body begging for my touch, desperate to be fucked.”

Jared would protest if it wasn’t the God’s honest truth.

“Imagine what they’d all think of me if they saw you letting me have anything I wanted.” Jensen brings his body closer; Jared can feel the heat against the back of his bare thighs.

“Show me,” Jared goads, all traces of royal bearing gone. “Show me what you would do.”

Finally, Jensen’s over him, hands falling possessively around his waist. Jared wants to feel his skin, but Jensen remains clothed, leaving Jared exposed and vulnerable. Though Jensen hasn’t been on active duty for the last two years, he trains with the castle guards and enjoys putting Jared through his paces (those sessions in particular tend to get a bit heated). Jared could spend hours worshipping Jensen’s body, though it’s plainly not on the agenda tonight.

“You like that idea?” Jensen muses as he plays Jared’s body like an instrument. “Showing the council how you bend to my touch? How eagerly you let me open you up and take you?”

A gasp bursts from Jared’s lips as one of Jensen’s hands drops to tease his ass. Seconds later, he’s moaning at the sensation of slicked, warmed fingers pressing into him. Jensen must have pulled out their preferred oil—sandalwood, made exclusively for the king—before Jared returned. The stretch is only overwhelming for a moment. As soon as discomfort crosses into pleasure, Jared rocks back onto Jensen’s fingers, hungry to feel more.

He’s the king; he’s used to getting what he wants.

“None of them would believe this,” Jared says, voice wrecked, “that you could have me on my knees like this.” Three fingers now, and Jared hangs his head as the euphoria rolls through him. “But you’re the only one, Jen—the only man I’d ever kneel for.”

That’s the moment Jensen breaks, as Jared knew he would. Those thick, sword callused fingers are gone, leaving him bereft, but not for long. Jared lifts his head and glances back just in time to see Jensen pull his cock from his unlaced pants and stroke it with a palmful of the remaining oil. His mouth waters at the sight, regretting that he must set aside that temptation for later.

The hunger is visible in Jensen’s eyes when he looks down at Jared’s naked body and the way it’s positioned for him. Cock in hand, he guides himself to the waiting entrance and pushes inside with slow, steady pressure. Part of Jared longs for something rougher, like the manner in which Jensen handled him earlier, though he’s grateful for his lover’s patience since the stretch is considerable.

“Jared,” Jensen moans when his cock is fully sheathed, hands shaking against Jared’s skin as he clings to his iron control. For his part, Jared is basking in the fullness within him and the weight behind him, and he’s desperate to feel Jensen move.

“Show me,” he urges, nearly breathless, “show me how you take a king.”

The first thrust pulls the life out of Jared and then forces it back in, against a backdrop of panted pleas and encouragement from both of them. Jensen’s hands are rougher now as they grapple to find purchase on sweaty skin, his touch bruising when he finally manages to hold Jared the way he wants. He’s left hundreds of marks on Jared—on the training ground and in their bedroom—and he covets each one. The early ones, from days spent sparring and learning hard battle lessons, mean as much to Jared as the ones that have come and gone since Jensen agreed to become the king’s consort.

“More, Jensen,” he urges, as if Jensen’s hands are the only things keeping him from flying apart.

“Fu-uck,” Jensen curses brokenly, “gonna give you everything.”

Their words are incoherent after that: a language that can only be deciphered by lovers. Jared loses the strength to remain on his elbows, fucking back into each of Jensen’s thrusts, and collapses down onto his chest. Jensen follows him down, pressing him flat on their bed under his weight. Any hint of control Jared possessed is now gone; he gives himself over to Jensen’s desires.

Unrestrained, Jensen fucks into him. One hand is splayed out on the bed for support while the other skims up the back of Jared’s neck and settles there, fingers slipping into Jared’s damp and disheveled hair. It’s possessive yet gentle, in contrast to the slap of his thighs against Jared’s ass, a reminder that no matter how violently their bodies may clash, their time is always undercut with love and unspoken trust.

And that’s what men like Weatherly will never be able to grasp. Jensen did not become Jared’s consort solely for sex and physical pleasure. Their love came first, and when Jared offered Jensen a place at his side, it was because he wanted a partner—an equal in all but title—to share the burden of ruling a kingdom.

Jensen shifts his kneeling stance, breaking his rhythm and slinging Jared back into the moment. Jared is about to protest when he’s filled to the limit once more, and this time, the angle and speed are the perfect combination across his prostate. Each glancing blow from Jensen’s cock winds him tighter and tighter, his breaths coming shallower and his thighs beginning to burn. He wants to reach for his own cock, but he can barely hang on to his sanity.

Above him, Jensen’s gasping his name over and over. No matter how Jensen says it—breathless with passion, deep with want, or fondly with exasperation—Jared loves hearing it fall from his lips.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Jared…” Jensen’s hips stutter and crash against Jared’s body hard one last time as he comes.

The stretch, the delicious _ache_ , the friction of his cock on silk, and the feeling of Jensen spilling inside him all combine to push Jared over the edge while Jensen remains locked in the throes of his orgasm.

By the time their passion has run its course, the pair of men are a tangled heap on the thoroughly rumpled sheets. Jensen kisses along the back of Jared’s shoulders, gathering sweat with his tongue, and reaches around only to find Jared’s cock softening between his legs. His eyes are wide when he flips Jared onto his back and looks down at his flushed face.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Jared tells him, a lazy smile curling his lips.

“By God,” Jensen whispers, “that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jared huffs. “Really?”

“You have no idea.”

Jared stretches his back, feels a pleasant ache throughout his entire body. Shifting into caretaker mode, Jensen undresses and uses his shirt to wipe Jared’s chest before discarding the mussed sheets. When he passes by the bed for a third time, Jared reaches out and grabs his hand, hauling him back into bed and pulling the blanket over their legs.

“Did that make you feel better?”

Jensen smiles and brushes a kiss across Jared’s forehead. “It did wonders, Your Majesty.”

“Stop that,” Jared scolds lightly. “Not in here.” 

The next few minutes are quiet and peaceful. Jared replays the evening in his mind, grinning when he feels a stirring of renewed interest, and finds himself laughing softly.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking that you’ve gone and proved Weatherly correct, unfortunately,” he teases.

Jensen frowns. “How so?”

Through his laughter, Jared says, “A consort’s true place is behind his king.”

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> I expressly forbid the reposting/copying/translating of my stories on other websites without my written permission.


End file.
